Today on Microdosing our prompt is AIRPORT!
Write a story in 100 words!
Don’t forget to tag me if you follow along with the challenge.
Nerves trembled through my body, rivers of sweat drenching my shirt. They will know. They will catch me! Act normal; just act normal! The officers watched me with faces made of stone as I passed the gate.
Greenlight. Now, just the bag.
Holding my breath, I watched it go through the scanner. The officer glanced at me, then moved the bag closer.
His words washed all of the stress away. "Have a safe flight, sir."
I thanked him with a smile and got away. The beer can I had bought still safely hidden in my clothes.
Screw you, overpriced airport bars.
Airport - a true story by a well-travelled ex-pat.
Far too long again…
There are no positives to sleeping at an airport. There are definitely no positives to sleeping at an airport when you’re accompanied by a four and a six year old.
Eighteen hours in Isanbul. Eighteen hours on mum duty with two children with a history of wandering.
I should have said no when they booked the flight, should have stood my ground.
Eight hours in and I’d found a secluded area for the children and I to sleep, Amy had her blankets, Olly had my coat. Within minutes they were fast asleep. A few more, I was with them.
Istanbul airport never sleeps. Nothing closes, the lights don't dim, it’s perpetual daytime. I'm awoken to the same blazing light I fell asleep to - a stark reminder of our departure from home.
I stare up at the illuminated ceiling through squinted eyes, I can't move just yet, I've not the energy, nor the will.
I wiggle my toes, stretch out my ankles, tighten my calves and straighten my legs; raising my arms above me, I sigh into the echoes of worldly travellers.
Amy sleeps soundly, lashes kissing her cheeks and thumb in mouth; is there anything more comforting than observing your child sleeping?
Stifling a yawn, I look to my thick aubergine coat, it lies discarded on the navy carpet, Olly’s silhouette distinctly missing.
A breath grapples for release, but it stays, lodged in my oesophagus - fear grips constricts my heart.
Where the hell is Olly?
Tbc - maybe
there is no real escaping when travelling by plane and through airports. I once was in Rome's airport and just wanted to sip some water. Well, no water fountain was to be found anywhere. With hours of lobby time ahead of me, I bought a small bottle of water for 5 Euros. It tasted probably the same as the sink water in the mens; room. Could have saved me the change.